LUC

I had to remember I wasn't the one that upset Jessie.

After taking him down to see the interior of the metal egg, he had changed. He still smiled at me, but the smiles didn't reach his eyes like they used to. He'd been quiet during the flight and remained quiet even after I brought him to my nest.

This nest was circular— the shape of a dew drop, with an angled entrance at the side. It was made entirely of plant matter and natural rubber, and I had built the nest over one year and simply continued reinforcing its frame. The mangrove tree that provided the nest's fortification with its branches was old and thick, with roots hundreds of years old that had become one with the mountain ridges. The neighboring trees provided cover from other Helli, hiding the nest from sight except someone was looking for it in particular. The interior wasn't huge. I could stand upright, and walk a few steps across, but it was a tight fit with me and Jessie. I made a mental note to make it larger next year... that was if Jessie was still here next year.

He hadn't expressed any want to leave, but we barely talked now. He spent most of his time in the corner of the nest inspecting the black metal rock he'd picked up from the egg.

I didn't like it.

It said words, and sometimes it screamed.

He'd occasionally eat, and when the storms got bad enough for the nest to sway, he would curl up to me, holding on to me with his small hands as he tried his best to stay calm.

Over a week passed and he was still in a mood. I wanted to talk to him about it and find out what exactly was bothering him, but I didn't have a shared understanding of the words needed to express the complexity of the emotions I saw dancing behind his eyes. I didn't even have the words to describe what I had seen that day in the metal egg.

Egg.

It was the only word I could use to describe it despite the multiple cave-like chambers it held inside it. Its innards felt more like a cold grave. So many brittle skeletons — so many people in pods that had never hatched. It looked like something had gone wrong. I'd never seen a clutch so bad. Not even when there was drought, and the sinkholes dried up and sea creatures that lived in the water creaks were beached on hot sand. Not even when the nights grew so cold rain descended as ice. At least half of a clutch survived, but that egg — what exactly had happened? Why had it dropped from the sky?

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Jessie coughed, I looked up from the weaving I was doing to stare at him in the corner of the nest. I had brought him more blankets, and he was currently wrapped up in three at the same time, his eyes were scanning the bound leaflets in his hands. It was 'a book' if I remember correctly.

I let out a nervous chur and he looked up, smiling weakly at me.

My stomach fell.

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

I let my eyes roam over his face. He was wearing grey clothing on his top and bottom half. The ridiculous foot covers I had found for him was something he seemed to prefer not to wear in the nest, and I could see a hint of them under the nest of blankets. His hair was a little longer than his nape again, curling around his shoulders and face. The darkness on his jaw returned, meaning the tiny hairs were growing back. I wondered what it looked like if he just let it grow, but he removed them just as quickly as they came in. I noticed the darkness under his eyes was a deeper color. I wondered if it was because the nest swayed during storms, or if it was the storms themselves.

Regardless, I put more stability reinforcements at the top of my to-do list for revamping the nest.

"Jessie, okay...?" I asked in his language, somehow hoping this time would be different. If he said 'no' maybe he would try to explain why to me. Teach me new words that I could use to understand him.

I held out for that but was disappointed.

He nodded, "Yes, Jamie, okay," he mumbled, coughing into his hand, before turning a leaflet. I wondered what was so interesting about human writing that he could look at it all day. Helli scribbled down agreements, took count of things, and wrote down notes. Humans seemed to have a lot to say, and I wished I could share a fraction of those words with Jessie.

I didn't know how to make him feel better — I didn't know what to do besides wait until he felt better. I took him to a fancier hot spring to do his human bathing ritual, but his expression had been just as numb. I had tried finding new interesting food, but he was rarely hungry or up for experimentation. He enjoyed and responded to my touch, but he seemed distant at times. It was as if there was something at the back of his mind regardless of what was going on.

What if he never feels better?

I squirmed at the thought, pained at the thought of Jessie unhappy even if it wasn't at me. He didn't hate me — I knew that. He still kissed me, still let me hold my hand, and allowed me to hold him and touch his hair. He still mated with me — initiated it even, although his attention seemed split.

You didn't do anything wrong. I reminded myself, pushing down my feelings of inadequacy. I wanted to make things right even though I wasn't the one that made things wrong. His sadness made me deeply nervous and agitated. I wanted him to smile fully again and show me the rows of his small teeth. I felt strongly for him, and it killed me to not be able to express myself adequately.

I hoped — I wished that he felt even a fraction of what I felt. That would be enough for me.

I racked my mind, trying to think of something I hadn't already tried that could bring him excitement. He liked food — even though there wasn't enough of it he could eat. Soft fruit, dried meat, and roasted seeds. I'd already tried getting new food, but this situation — whatever visiting the sight of the landing had done to him — seemed to mute his appetite. He also liked to look through my things at the cliff nest. His eyes would glitter with excitement whenever he traced the engravings on items. It was unfortunate that not very much could fit into this nest. It was built to be an oversized bed, not a living space.

As I mulled over my options a thought crossed my mind. I shivered, feeling a little unnerved by my idea.

I could get him something from other Helli. Helli were mostly solitary creatures that moved in mate pairs and small extended family flocks, but there were centers for trade scattered around — cliffside markets, open-air trading posts at creak, and a few underground hoards up for barter. I went infrequently — mostly for salt. I made most of my tools and hunted most of my food. I didn't like being around other Helli much. It didn't matter if they were male or female they could all tell I was a runt, and vulnerable, and there was always that potential danger of someone deciding to act out on me. It wasn't stealing if you won it in a fight or outsmarted the other Helli, but even with that sentiment, most Helli didn't just nick things off one another. No one wanted to risk getting hurt, unless, of course, someone was overtly and undeniably weaker.

I could make a trip to the market and lose everything... or I could find something to make Jessie happy.

I'll go. I told myself, swallowing down the feeling of dread as I imagined Jessie smiling sincerely at a figurine. I was bad at carving, engraving, or drawing, and just knew very basic weaving patterns, but that didn't count — all Helli could weave. It was instinctual and necessary for nest building. I wasn't artistic at all. Jessie's drawings were beautiful, even though all he used them for was to talk to me. I was sure he would pick up claywork or wood carving if he put his mind to it. That was something else I could get him — tools for a new skill.

I needed a while to plan things out — figure out what I could take with me for trade. There were certain mushrooms, truffles, herbs, and even human things that interested most sellers. It would be a few days trip. There was a cliff market two days away that was more civilized than most. I would have a better chance there. I couldn't take Jessie with me, so he would have to be here by himself. I was sure it would be safe, but I wasn't sure if he would understand why I was gone for so long.

It will be worth it. I reassured myself, watching my fingers keep weaving with the dried-out plant strips I had placed on my lap.

When I took trips out of the nest, I spent the next few days gathering truffles, mushrooms, herbs, and human trinkets I knew fascinated Helli. They enjoyed collecting reflective metal, human jewelry, containers, and brushes. Jessie was still a shell of himself, mostly still just reading and fidgeting with the black metal he had retrieved from the landing site.

I wish I could understand him — I wish I knew what was going on in his end. Sometimes he would say several sentences in his language as he looked at him, his gaze intent, like that would be enough to make me understand. It made me feel small.

Useless and unhelpful.

I took the quasi-mate bond I had developed seriously, even though a part of me knew it was one-sided nonsense. I wanted Jessie to be happy, not wallowing in sadness in the little inadequate nest I had built years ago. I would make another one, or at least increase the size of the one I had now as I had initially planned. How could I even be a provider when I couldn't anticipate his emotional wants and needs? How could I make him happy if I could barely communicate with him?

It's not your fault. I tried to remind myself, even though I was having a hard time believing it. I let myself prepare for my journey, taking my mind off my inadequacy.